Waiting in The Dark
by potterheadjazz
Summary: *Contains TWD spoilers!* Loki is ill and refuses the nursing of Thor and Jane, but refuses to tell them why. *PLATONIC THORKI, MAYBE SOME DARCY/LOKI ACTION LATER. RATED M FOR LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, AND INNUENDO.*
1. Chapter 1

***THOR 2 SPOILERS, DON'T READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE THEM* **

**Loki was stabbed but not killed in Malekith's realm. After the last of the Dark Elves were vanquished, Thor and Jane returned to Midgard, taking Loki with them for treatment. **

He woke again in the night, screaming.

Somewhat reluctantly, Thor left the warmth of his bed and Jane's embrace and stumbled along the cold landing to the guest room. He snapped on the light and saw Loki sitting bolt upright in bed, panting heavily, his alabaster-pale skin shining with a thin layer of sweat. Thor positioned himself on the edge of the bed and hooked an arm around the younger man.

"Loki! Brother, calm down," he muttered. "It is me. Look. It is only me."

"Th-Thor?" Loki's eyes were not quite focused, his hands shaking.

"Are you okay, brother? Are you in pain?" Thor scrabbled to check the wound in the raven-haired man's chest, but Loki batted his hands away dismissively.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I'm not in pain. Or not much, anyway. I simply… I mean… I'm okay. Leave me now. Let me sleep."

"But you were screaming," Thor reminded him. "There must be something troubling you."

"I _said _I'm fine," the slender man snarled. "I wish to _sleep, _Thor."

Thor heard the underlying pleading tone to the last part and left his younger brother, switching off the light on his way out.

When Thor slipped back into the covers, Jane rolled into his arms.

"'S he okay?" she mumbled, sleepily.

"No," Thor sighed. "But he refuses to tell me what troubles him and not even I can get him to speak when he does not want to. Stubborn little…"

"Sounds like someone else I know," Jane chuckled. "Loki will be fine, Thor. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"I just worry about him so," Thor pouted.

"Don't," Jane breathed, and she pressed her lips gently too his.

Loki lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

He'd had bad dreams as a child – as every child does – but then they were about monsters in cupboards and ghouls under beds. They didn't compare in any way too these – these were horrible hyper-realistic visions of things that actually existed, things that actually happened… things he had actually done.

And yet, he found himself unable to tell Thor what was really happening. The burly blonde would be sympathetic, yes. But Loki did not seek sympathy; sympathy was for the weak, and he was not weak. He would not be weak. He refused. And how could Thor even attempt to understand? Even as a child, Thor had not understood Loki's nightmares. In those days, Loki would awake and pad along, sniffling, to his brother's chamber, where he would clamber into the big bed and curl up against the blonde's chest. Thor would simply pat his brother and make the same promises as every night to not tell Odin, for Loki feared being mocked by the Allfather for such girlish fears. The last time that had happened, Loki had been thirteen and Thor had sulked, telling the younger sibling that this was getting ridiculous. He did not see why, at this age, Loki was having such dreams and that he needed to grow up and learn to take care of himself.

No, Loki would keep it to himself. Surely the dreams would go away by themselves – he would outgrow them, much like the dreams he suffered as a child. These were side-effects of this damned illness, the one that rendered him too exhausted to use any kind of magic – including shape shifting. He had the common sense not to go outside in his true form, knowing he was Midgard's number one pariah - and so this illness effectively placed him under house arrest. Which wasn't a problem while he was still bedridden, but Loki could sense insufferable boredom in the foreseeable future.

Loki yawned and stretched, simply exhausted. But he would not allow himself to slip back into slumber – he was terrified of the haunting visions that awaited him in sleep. He studied the ceiling carefully, detecting every crack and chip in the plaster, every streak in the paintwork, every imperfection. When that grew tiresome, he listened. To the dripping tap in the bathroom, to the irritatingly steady ticking of the clock on the landing, to the soft snores of his brother in the next room, until the rising sun filtered in through the bedroom window.


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy arrived for breakfast time, as she did most mornings.

She was surprised to see only Jane at the table; usually Thor would be there, terribly cheerful for the time of morning, laughing and singing, cooking for everyone because he was so proud that he could now successfully operate a frying pan without burning himself and/or spilling oil everywhere.

"Where's big blonde and buff?" Darcy slotted herself into her seat beside Jane.

"With Loki," Jane sighed. She leaned closer to Darcy and lowered her voice. "That guy is seriously messed up. Like more so than I thought. He wakes up in the night screaming… well I don't actually know exactly what he's screaming. But he won't tell Thor what's going on and when I asked I just got this look like he was above me or something."

As if on cue, Thor entered the room, looking somewhat troubled.

"How is he?" Jane asked, mocking concern.

"Sleeping," Thor said, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. "I don't think he slept well last night after he woke. From what I can tell he didn't get back to sleep until first light."

"Still not sleeping, huh?" Darcy raised one eyebrow. "Have you tried giving him sleeping pills?"

"Darcy, rest assured, my brother would die before he touched Midgardian medication," Thor told her. She said nothing, seeing it was unwise to push the blonde man further, and he busied himself making coffee. There was a tense silence which was eventually broken by Jane.

"Hey, hon?" she touched Thor's bulky bicep. "I need to do some grocery shopping later and I could really use your help."

"I can't…" Thor began, but paused at Jane's look. "I shouldn't leave Loki." He amended.

"I'll stay with him," Darcy said, quickly. She could see the strain Thor and Jane's relationship was under and she didn't want to see them fall apart, not after how Jane reacted last time. Thor looked unsure. "Look, it can't be hard. He's too ill to leave his room and I'll make sure he keeps his fluids topped up and stuff. I won't even speak to him if he doesn't want me to."

"I'm sure she'll cope," Jane said, quickly. "Come on. He's coped without you hanging over him before. He'll be okay."

Albeit reluctantly, Thor agreed to go.

Coincidentally, Darcy had a run-in with Loki pretty soon after Thor and Jane left for the grocery store. She'd gone to Jane's room to borrow a sweater and heard the slim god groaning in the next room.

"Thor?" his voice was hoarse and weak.

"Um, no," she replied, going to the doorway. "Thor went out to the store with Jane – are you okay?"

"Stupid girl. Do I bloody look okay?" he snapped, his fighting spirit still strong despite the illness. He really was a sorry sight, though – he was curled into a foetal ball, using his arms to shield his eyes from the sunlight through the window. The covers were a tangle around his skinny frame, the black shirt he wore sticking to his skin with sweat.

"Sorry," Darcy rolled her eyes. "What I meant was… can I get you something? Are you hungry?"

"If I eat anything, I'll vomit," Loki groaned.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"Water," he moaned. "Water would be great."

Darcy nodded, though he wasn't watching, and returned soon after with a glass of water and a cool cloth. She set the glass on the bedside table and swallowed.

"Hey, I brought you something else," she said. The younger god didn't react, but Darcy was pretty sure he hadn't fallen asleep. "Uh… it's a cool wet flannel. You put it on your forehead and it should help your fever."

"You Midgardians _do _have some peculiar remedies," Loki commented.

"What would they do with a fever back in space?" she asked, interested.

"Fever! Please, a fever is nothing," Loki scoffed. "The healers on Asgard would make short work of a _fever._"

"Wait, can't you do like magic and shit? Couldn't you just heal yourself?" Darcy asked.

Loki almost laugh, the raspy, rough sounds ending in a coughing fit.

"Idiot child," he said, when he regained control. "Don't you think that was the first thing I tried? I haven't the energy or the strength to do any kind of magic right now. Go now. I want to rest."

"Um. Do you want the cloth or…" she offered it to him. He took it from her with a shaking hand.

"Anything to get better," he muttered. "Now go."

Darcy left him alone, shutting the light off behind her as she went.


End file.
